


The Bakery Down the Street

by charlesleeray



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bakery, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Couple Antics, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, First Kiss, Kinda, M/M, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Wine, kind of, no beta we die like men, they both love eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesleeray/pseuds/charlesleeray
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have some moments, and Crowley finally realizes what it’s like to be in love.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	The Bakery Down the Street

Crowley was sprawled across the bookshop’s couch like a tired dog, sunglasses halfway across his face, and a bottle of Aziraphale’s Merlot in his hand.   
“I don’t see why I can’t tempt you to a bottle, Angel— it is my job, after all.”  
“I’m busy, Crowley.”  
The angel walked past him, carrying a large stack of books that looked like they came straight from the 1700’s— Crowley practically sneezed his guts when quite a bit of dust came his way as Aziraphale hurried past.   
“Busy, smusy. Come on, let’s have a bit of fun! We could go visit that bakery down on 11th street, the one you’ve wanted to go to. That... fancy once.”  
Crowley was never one for any type of bakery, but he remembered how Aziraphale’s eyes had lightened up as they passed by it in his Bentley, and it was all he could talk about for the ride home.   
“Maybe later.” Aziraphale had hesitated on this, tapping his fingers on the spine of one book before placing it on the table in front of him. “Like I said, I’m busy.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” He took a swig of the Merlot and earned a mean glare from Aziraphale, who had instructed him to only use the wine glasses for drinking. Crowley stuck his forked tongue out, and the glare immediately turned into a soft smile.  
“Oh, now you’re just acting like a child.”  
“Kids can’t drink wine, can they?” Crowley shook their bottle in his hands.  
“I sure hope not!”   
This was their daily routine after the Apoco-wasn’t— bickering with each other like they were an old married couple, drinking wine and sometimes vodka, if Aziraphale was feeling adventurous that night, and sampling the multiple bakeries and shops that popped up nearly everyday. Crowley wouldn’t have traded it for the world, even if it bored him sometimes— all that mattered was that he was with Aziraphale, and that his dear angel was happy.   
He had been with him ever since the creation of the Earth, and had trailed behind him like a lost puppy wherever he went. From time to time, he wondered how Aziraphale had felt about him, and if it it nagged at his brain as much as it did his.

He would be right.

Aziraphale loved the man’s company, even on days when he felt a bit annoyed. Crowley had a way of lighting up any room he walked into, especially when he had a bottle of wine in hand. He would always quip back with some sort of inappropriate joke, or something about how Heaven wasn’t all high and mighty as the angel thought, and even if Aziraphale disagreed, Crowley had always managed to make him laugh. Now, while he was putting away copies of old and worn books— he’d taken a special interest in medieval poetry for the time being— it felt only natural to have Crowley’s presence there. In fact, when Aziraphale couldn’t sense a demon in his bookshop, he grew a bit worried.   
“Angel, do you reckon we could go out for a bit?”  
There he was again, now leaning against the cash register that was barely ever used. “It’s boring, sitting down all day.”  
“Well, why don’t you get a job?”  
“That’s— no! I already have a job!”  
“A human job, Crowley.”  
Crowley’s face turned to utter disgust.   
“Never in a million years!” Crowley threw his hands up, shaking his head wildly. “Nope. Nada. Never. I’ve had my fun in other human jobs, but a real one?” He stuck his tongue out, mimicking dying.   
“Please. It’s not that bad.” Aziraphale took the Merlot from his hands and produced two wine glasses, setting them on the desk. “You should think about it, you know.”  
“Angel, do you know how horrible having an actual job is? With bosses and co-workers and all that— I couldn’t live a day. Look at you! You’re your own boss!”  
“Slightly,” Aziraphale agreed. “But She—“  
“Yes, yes, Her! God! But She’s not the one in charge of this bookshop, is She?”   
“Are you, perhaps, drunk?” Aziraphale had gotten close enough that he could smell the wine on Crowley’s breath. Crowley had backed away, then leaned forward, stumbling a bit.  
“A bit. But if I were sober, I’d still be sayin’ the same thing.”  
Aziraphale shook his head. “It was just a suggestion, dear. No need to get frightfully mad at the prospect of working a job.”  
“But it’s stupid,” he slurred. Before Crowely could stumble back more, Aziraphale miracled a small chair behind him. He slouched in it, and Aziraphale passed him a full wine glass. “I know you think it’s... er, stupid, but it’s quite nice when you’re alone.”  
“What, do you not like it when I’m here?”  
“When I’m alone with you, Crowley.” Aziraphale took a sip of wine, glancing back at the books he had to put up. Crowley had tempted him, yet again, into sparking up a conversation with him. In a little part of his mind, Aziraphale was quite thankful for it. He did like to take breaks sometimes, and Crowley seemed to know when he was feeling antsy.   
“So, how about that bakery?”  
“Sober up, and we’ll get to it.”

The bakery could be described as angelic, in all sense of the word— it looked as if it had fallen down from Heaven and landed straight into an empty plot. Before, there was a burger shop that called itself Clyde’s Burgers that had shut down for hygiene issues. Little did they know, Crowley had rehabilitated a small family of rats right behind the dumpster. He figured he was doing the rats a favor.   
It wasn’t very busy— Crowley suspected a miracle on Aziraphale’s part— and the baker greeted them with open arms, leaning across the counter and having a quiet chat with the angel about their pastries.   
“You two done yet? I’m getting hungry.”  
“Oh, we were just finishing up our conversation!”  
The baker smiled wide, taking out a paper bag. “Whaddya want?”  
Aziraphale went first— some muffins and multiple baked goods that looked extremely foreign to Crowley— he wasn’t that well-versed in food— and Crowley chose a simple little pie, knowing well he wasn’t going to eat it all— he much preferred meat.   
Aziraphale paid when Crowley suggested they go back home— “We’ve got wine back at home, angel.” — and the baker waved them off with a grin.  
“Thank you two so much! It’s nice to see more couples in the area who like baking!”  
Before Crowley could register the couple part, they were out the door, walking back to the bookshop.  
Aziraphale didn’t seem to pick up on it, but Crowley certainly did. Suddenly, he had lost all appetite— why wasn’t Aziraphale talking about it? He was usually the one to remark on how people said such silly things.   
As the angel unpacked the dessert, Crowley took a nervous sip of wine.  
“Angel.”  
“Yes, Crowley?”  
“Didja hear the baker?”  
“Mhm. She was nice, wasn’t she? She said she had a partner who was setting up another bakery—“  
“No, no. I mean the last thing she said. About us.”  
Aziraphale blanked. “Us?”  
“Well, she... she called us a couple, didn’t she?”  
“I believe she did.”   
Aziraphale’s tone never changed, instead digging into the pastry he had ordered. “Oh, Heavens. This is delightful! Crowley, try it—really, you’ll love it—“  
Aziraphale took Crowley’s jaw in his hand and opened his mouth, feeding him what was on the fork.   
What tasted like blueberry erupted in his mouth, and Crowley’s eyes widened at how good it was— he wasn’t expecting anything from a bakery just down the street. He swallowed, a dopey smile appearing on his face.  
“Well. That’s... good.”  
“Thank you for taking me, Crowley.”   
“Oh. Huh? You’re welcome.”  
His glasses fell off his face, and his pupils dilated with the appearance of Aziraphale. In his mind, he desperately wanted to be close to him, to hug him, something that would immediately burn down his reputation as a demon.   
“Crowley, try this one!”  
Before Aziraphale could spoon feed him, Crowley took the fork and placed it in his mouth. This time, it was salty caramel.  
“Not as good as the last one, angel.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”  
As Aziraphale took the fork from him, his hand lingered, and Crowely almost jumped from the sensation. Now, the feelings he felt were jackhammering the thought of being with Aziraphale, if only for a moment, into his mind. Should he make the first move? Would Aziraphale cast him out of the shop? Or would he reciprocate his feelings?  
He was a demon, after all. And didn’t demons always make the first move?  
“Angel, would you mind if I kissed you?”  
The words had come out of his mouth before he even thought about it, and he immediately bit down on his tongue. Aziraphale stood there for a second, processing the words— then laughed.   
“Only if you eat your dessert, now.”  
Crowley perked up. “What? No fair!”  
“Oh, it’s just a pie! I wouldn’t want you to put it to waste!”  
He pouted. “One before and one after?”  
In a swift movement, Aziraphale bent down and gave Crowley a kiss on the cheek.   
“Now, eat your pie. It’s getting cold.”  
“Yea, yea, angel. I will.”


End file.
